Song of Self Fulfillment
(Wishfully for RW)
There are so many of us out there. A milky way with a few of us twinkling faintly. Oh never mind the bright delineated constellations. To say us sounds so much less lonesome, but still far away from any comfort. I am what I call a single artist. An artist alone. I know you may not have heard the expression, say, as you have heard of, the emerging artist. But if you would allow me this chance to explain, you’ll see that it makes perfect sense. As I say it – single, I know it becomes one of those words caught in the stilted claws of quotation marks. By single I mean, unrepresented, without gallery, agent or patron, neither collector nor curator. And, yes it is so very similar to being single in more common, lonely, lovelorn way. I want to say exactly, but it does seem a bit unessential and business-like to connect such a status to. And yet all the emotions of courtship and spurned romantic desires remain the same. Oh thank goodness I’m gainfully engaged in all that love business,,, not a problem. But to be a single artist is so much like the lack of a romantic relationship. All the weary rationales to buttress and buoy the singular soul: yes I must travel a different road, go it alone, no one sees me for who I am, and my worth is not appreciated because of its uncommon brilliance, or, I don’t need that ridiculous bullshit, its all a trap I’m far to smart to be snared by it. Yes I am a single artist,,,
Maybe I have a chance to fail at failure, but there is hope of success. I think I may put this scribbling on a blog. Perhaps I could be writer as well as a visual artist, yes , , , join in on this scintillating universe, as if to become one with the chorus of radio waves from remote and distant celestial objects.
American Success Story
My father’s business has done very well. When he was young he tried to make a go at it as a commercial artist, but didn’t do too well. With my birth, and much debt, he turned to silkscreen printing. His first shop in New Jersey grew quickly. He began to produce decals, and gained good clients: a tool company, an athletic goods manufacturer. It was not till my father allowed his creative side, and keen marketing sense guide him, that he achieved his first great product. In 1968 he watched carefully what was going on and went to work designing, producing, and distributing the Flower Power sticker. As a young boy I would encounter these flower stickers everywhere. Back then, they meant only a pride in my father. That was many years ago.
It can be said that F. Scott Fitzgerald is often wrong, my father did have a great second act. Things had shifted from stickers to magnets, particularly when it came to automobiles. Stickers were messy and hard to remove and magnets could be temporary. In 2003 my father designed the Yellow Ribbon magnet with the words “support our troops” emblazoned on it. Its success was overwhelming. My father never minded the criticism his two big products invited. He felt he had given people something to express themselves with. Now at the age of eighty-five, my father is experiencing declining health. His company will be sold soon. It has been a great disappointment to my father that I did not take his offer, but I’m not interested in the business.
Joel Holub 